Banana Pancakes
by Crittab
Summary: Jeff and Annie fight off a hangover with banana pancakes and a much-needed discussion.


**Title:** Banana Pancakes

**Rating:** PG – PG-13

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Community, yo.

**Summary:** Jeff and Annie fight off a hangover with banana pancakes and a much-needed discussion.

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**Banana Pancakes**

Annie slowly blinked her way into consciousness, the light pouring in through the slats in the blinds entirely unwelcome against her raging headache. Even behind blurred eyes, she could tell this wasn't her room, her bed. She could tell the sheets were softer against her skin and the pillow was cushier against the back of her head. She could tell the walls were a pale gray and the shades an uninspiring black.

Her first thought was to panic.

Her second was to check for clothes.

Her hands rushed to her midsection, still thankfully covered in her cardigan. Then lower, her skirt still in place. Tentatively, she swooped her hand beneath the floral print and found the soft cotton of her underwear exactly where it should be.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and then fought to remember the night before.

There were drinks. A _lot_ of them. And her friends. Most of them. Jeff had been there. So was Britta, but she left early with Troy. Shirley wasn't there, nor was Pierce. She couldn't recall if she'd seen Abed. There was definitely a cab ride, and briefly she remembered some groping hands and moans swallowed by another mouth—a familiar one.

She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and took a closer look at the room around her, looking for signifiers. No pictures, no books, no anything to suggest someone actually lived here, aside from the well-worn sheets and half-full laundry bin in the corner. She peered over at the bedside table and her eye caught a glint of light coming off a shiny object. A watch. A massive watch that she recognized as usually being strapped around Jeff's right wrist.

Crap.

What the hell did they do last night?

And more importantly, where the hell was Jeff?

She pushed herself up, her head and stomach protesting at the sluggish movement. She caught herself reflected in a wall-mounted mirror across the room and groaned at her own reflection. Her clothes might still be in place, but her hair certainly wasn't.

"Ugh," she moaned, finger combing the wayward strands as best she could before finally giving up. She crossed her legs and settled into a seated position as she tried to remember more of the previous night. Her memories stalled out after that cab ride. There was a brief flash of being held against a strong chest – Jeff's chest, she now extrapolated—but beyond that, nothing existed in her memory.

God, what the hell happened? Did she black out? Did she really drink that much?

She mentally ran through the parts of the evening she could remember. The first shot, taken by the group. The second and third shot shared between her and Jeff and her and Britta respectively. The first bottle of beer. The second bottle of beer. The scotch (because Jeff taunted that she wouldn't get through it). The third bottle of beer to wash away the taste of scotch. The final shot with Britta before she and Troy (the designated driver) left. The final bottle of beer with Jeff. Jeff stepping in between her legs on the bar stool, clumsily stroking her hair and telling her… something. Something she had, at the time, found unbelievably hilarious.

Then there was just a whole lot of laughing. Laughing and stumbling, and falling into a cab. And Jeff falling in after her, his hands going to her hips and his lips to her throat, and her throat begging him to do more to her as he mumbled directions that she didn't recognize to the driver.

And then they kissed, and kissed, and kissed. And then the kisses blurred, and the cab blurred, and Jeff blurred.

And then she woke up in Jeff's bed, alone and confused, still clothed, with the most intense headache she could recall ever suffering from.

Well, at least her brain answered the who, what, where and when. The why was still a fog. _Why_ was she at Jeff's? And _why_ wasn't he there too?

Despite her natural inclination to plug her ears and hide beneath the covers, Annie strained to hear what was going on outside of the half-closed bedroom door. Jeff couldn't have just left her there, could he? She was sure that he'd left plenty of women after one night stands (successful or not), but it would seem the whole 'being in his apartment' thing might make that more difficult.

There was a sizzling. That was odd. She sniffed, and realized for the first time that there was a smell wafting through the apartment that was more than just the scent of _Jeff Winger_. And, much to her surprise, it didn't make her upset stomach lurch.

She sniffed again. It was a familiar smell, but in her hangover haze, she wasn't immediately able to place it. Deciding to give up on her sniff-test, she forced her creaking, stiff body to extricate itself from the warm sheets of Jeff's bed (holy crap, she was in Jeff's bed!), and her sore feet to carry her to the door. She peeked outside and spied Jeff in the kitchen, his back to her, his head down. She padded out to where he stood, leaning over the counter next to him and resting her head on it.

"I don't know," Annie mumbled into the granite. She heard Jeff chuckle.

"Neither do I," he said. She peeked to the side and saw him flip something in his frying pan.

"What's that?" He flipped another.

"Banana pancakes," he explained. She pulled her heavy head from the counter and peered into the pan that held three.

"Why?" He scooped one out and placed it on a plate next to the stove top that held three others.

"Best hangover cure. Ever." Annie was skeptical.

"Says who?" she grumbled. Jeff smirked at her and scooped the other two out, adding to his collection.

"Says a guy who's had a lot of hangovers." She side-eyed him for another moment before relenting.

"I might be interested."

"Who said they're for you?" he teased. She narrowed her eyes and he broke, leading her out of the kitchen and to his dining table, where he'd set out two plates, two cups, a bottle of orange juice, a bottle of syrup and a bottle of Tylenol. She settled into a seat while he dropped three pancakes on the plate in front of her.

"You're weirdly functional for being hungover," she noted as she poured herself a glass of juice. Jeff shrugged one shoulder and dished out his own pancakes before settling into his seat.

"I'm a pro," he said, pouring his own juice and taking a sip. Annie let herself settle into this for a moment, taking small bites of the pancakes (that were freaking delicious, and surprisingly not upsetting to her stomach), interspersed with small sips of her juice. Jeff cracked the bottle of Tylenol and dropped three into his palm, popping them into his mouth and swallowing them down with a gulp of juice. Annie watched him as he did this, noting the way his adam's apple bobbed with the effort. He eyed her for a moment, curiously.

"Do you take pain killers?" he asked.

"Occasionally. Depends on how bad it is." She couldn't help but smile at his curiosity and the unspoken question of "can you handle this?" He nodded slowly, taking in this information.

"How bad is it?" She offered a wry chuckle.

"Pretty bad." He popped the lid and dropped one into his palm, holding it out for her. She dry-swallowed it before following up with a sip. The two ate for a few minutes longer, relishing in the silence, despite Annie's million-and-one questions.

"Nothing happened," Jeff said after finishing his second pancake. Annie's eyes shot up, surprised he'd actually bothered to initiate the conversation.

"I figured," she said, gesturing to her clothes that were still mostly the way she'd left them.

"Do you remember much?" She shook her head.

"Everything from the cab ride onward is pretty much gone," she hesitated a moment before continuing. "I didn't do anything… embarrassing… did I?" Jeff quirked a lopsided grin.

"Annie, in the court of Jeff, you can't be held responsible for decisions you make when you're drunk." She frowned.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." He chuckled this time.

"Annie," he reached across the table, setting his hand over hers. She looked down at his hand, trying not to blush at the way it made her feel as she remembered the way that hand had been on her the night before. "Annie. You're fine. Nothing happened. You didn't embarrass yourself. You just…fell asleep." She made a face.

"You mean I passed out."

"You could say that," he allowed.

"Would _you_ say that?" Jeff pulled his hand away, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought about this.

"I don't like the term _passed out_. I prefer _situational narcolepsy_." Annie couldn't help but giggle at this. Leave it up to Jeff to be able to polish that particular turd.

"You're ridiculous," she said with a smile. Jeff just chuckled and went back to his last pancake, prompting Annie to do the same.

And then in the silence, she thought more and more on the night before. She only lasted another few minutes before speaking up again.

"We kissed last night," she said suddenly. Jeff raised an eyebrow, his fork halted midway to his mouth. He dropped it back to his plate, but said nothing. "We kissed a lot."

"I thought you forgot the cab ride," he said quietly. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"I remember bits and pieces." He nodded, then brought his fork to his mouth and finished the last of his breakfast, following it up with the last sip of his juice. Annie watched him do so in silence, waiting for his response.

"Look, Annie," he said slowly.

"I know, Jeff," she interrupted. "Drunken mistake. It didn't mean anything." She rattled off the words as if they were a prepared set of lines. He waited a moment before responding.

"Annie, we were both really drunk," he began slowly. "I don't want to assume this is something you want just because you did it then." Her brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Just…" he stopped again to think. "I know you've moved on. And even if I haven't… I don't want to assume that meant something to you that it didn't." Annie watched him incredulously as he delivered his lines.

"You sound like a girl," she said before thinking it through. Jeff laughed humourlessly.

"Yea, I guess," he allowed. She thought about this again.

"You haven't moved on?" she asked. He sighed and refilled his juice, sipping at it again.

"Not really, no." She felt her stomach lurch—not from sickness.

"But… I thought you didn't want me to begin with." He sighed deeply and sunk back in his chair.

"I know." She rolled her eyes and sat up a little straighter.

"Jeff, for goodness sakes, you can't just expect me to know these things!" Jeff sunk a little lower.

"I know," he said again. Annie sighed deeply.

"Well… now what?" she asked. Jeff eyed her with confusion.

"What do you mean, now what?" She sat back in her chair a moment, watching him watching her, a heavy silence between them.

"Do you want me, Jeff?" she asked, point blank, no room for confusion. Jeff waited a moment, his brow creasing and then uncreasing.

"Yea," he said quietly. Annie pushed her chair back, standing and finding her stomach far more settled than it had been before breakfast. Jeff looked up at her, quizzically, as she rounded the table and grabbed his hand.

"Then come and finish what you started last night," she said simply. He raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?" She nodded, failing to keep a small smile from brightening her features. His smile in response was one of the most genuine she could recall seeing from him. "I thought you were hungover." Annie shrugged and pulled him up insistently.

"What can I say? Those banana pancakes really did the trick."

**End**

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_Oh hey, this is what I did at work today. Can you tell I'm good at staying on task?_


End file.
